


on the high seas

by airdachuain



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 19:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5796988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airdachuain/pseuds/airdachuain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Merida provokes the wrath of a hostile king, Macintosh makes a sacrifice for the sake of the kingdom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	on the high seas

**Author's Note:**

> I think I first mentioned this on tumblr in like, early December. It has spiralled out of control. I finally took a look at my word count and figured I ought to give you (that’s right, all ten of you!) something. So tadaa!
> 
> The tags will edited as we go, so I encourage you to look at the author notes in the beginning as I'll put down chapter warnings in them.

The queen’s mother had not realized how late she’d slept in until something like thunder cracked outside her window. It startled her into sitting up right, hand to her chest. How could there be a storm? While it wasn’t uncommon for Dunbroch to experience rain, true, there hadn’t been a cloud in the sky the other day. She put her hands to her face, wiping away the sleep from her eyes and the hair from her mouth. Just as she’d finished tidying her hair, there was a knock on the door, and a handmaiden rushing in. The girl was a small thing, and Elinor recalled the other day when she’d been appointed. The girl’s mother – Elinor’s previous lady-in-waiting – was finally to be dismissed, and now it was simply a matter of training the girl. She had travelled all the way from the most northern point of Dunbroch, a MacGuffin lass, having only just arrived at the castle the day before. The girl looked positively terrified, so much that Elinor couldn’t help but laugh.

 

“Take that look off yer face, I won’t bite.” She promised, to which the girl tried to smile, but failed miserably. The thunder rolled again, making the girl jump.

 

“I-I’m-” The handmaiden glanced warily at the window, gulped, and returned her gaze. “Sorry, milady, she said ye needn’t go-”

 

“Go where, sweetheart?” Elinor sighed as she pulled herself out of bed, reaching for a robe to cover her nightgown. She eventually found it at her bedside chair beside the window, right in a patch of sunlight that made it very warm when Elinor put it on. The queen’s mother was just pulling her hair out from underneath the collar when she paused.

 

If there was a rainstorm outside, surely there wouldn’t be any sunlight at all to warm her clothes? Elinor frowned, and slowly turned to the girl.

 

“Who said I needn’t go where?”

 

The handmaiden gulped, ringing her hands, “There was an issue in court today. A disagreement wit’ one of t’ lairds. ‘er Majesty, tha’ is to say, the Quine, is…”

 

Elinor crossed her arms, a technique that she knew from personal experience worked well with older children, “The Queen is what?”

 

There was a very long pause in which the girl studiously avoided meeting her lady’s gaze.

 

“To quote ‘er Majesty, takin’ out ‘er rage in an appropriate manner wi’ t’ laird in question.”

 

The same uproarious clash boomed outside, although this time it was accompanied with unintelligible voices shouting viciously. Elinor raced to the window, flicking the latch open and pushing open the pane.

 

Her room had a view of the courtyard below, which meant she had a perfect view of the battle ensuing. The yard was a mess – upturned tables, food tossed about on the ground, and tools scattered in a long line leading to the two responsible for the carnage. Once Elinor took a look, her look of fear and surprise completely melted away. Oh, she should have known.

 

Brandishing his longsword was Lord Macintosh, and taking a swing at him with a blacksmith’s hammer was her daughter, Queen Merida. The hammer bounced over the blade, but Merida was quick, spinning into Macintosh’s personal space to aim at his side. He was quick to duck underneath it, making to cut her feet from underneath her, but she leaped over, and brought the hammer over her own head with both hands to swing it down at him. He used the momentum from the lunge at her ankles to roll to the side, on his feet in a flash, and they were back to a series of parries and blows that no ordinary warrior to keep up with.

 

There was no one that could keep up with the queen like Lord Macintosh could.

 

“Should we send someone in?”

 

Elinor glanced over in surprise. In awe of the fight, she’d entirely forgotten about the frightened handmaiden. If she’d forgotten before, it was clear enough that the girl truly was new to the castle. Firstly, no servant was supposed to stand side by side with her. The second point:

 

“This? This happens once a week, sweetheart.”

She beamed then, and gave the little girl a pat on the shoulder, before going about to fetch her gown for the day. In the courtyard below, the fight reached a climax when Merida got an elbow in Macintosh’s side. He reached to clutch at his side, which gave his opponent the opening to knock his sword aside and tap his legs hard enough to send him to his knees. She raised the hammer over her head again, and froze as her gaze met his.

 

Macintosh was panting, exhausted by the fight, but by no means did he hold the same anger he had during the meeting. He may have not realized it, but his mouth was drooping, one corner crooked up as he smiled at her in awe.

 

“So I guess this means we won’t trade with Camelot?”

 

There was a silence. Out of the corners of her eye, Merida could see people peeking around corners to see the queen’s reaction, wondering if she would bring the weapon down on the lord.

 

But instead, she tilted her head in consideration, and replied, “Nah, we will. With Arthur gone, their authority will be of right mind to trade - an’ the innocent will be in dire need of assistance to rebuild their broken kingdom. It’s the right thing to do.”

 

Macintosh’s grin grew even more, “So I  _was_ right?”

 

“Don’t get cocksure.” She warned him, although there was no anger in her voice. Finally, Merida beamed. She lowered the hammer, but by the time it touched his head, the force gave him nothing more than a teasing tap on the skull. She gave her nose a wrinkle as she did, which made the lord laugh. By the time Merida took his hand and had him on his feet, they were both laughing. The fight was already a joke by the time they reached the doors to return to the meeting inside.

 

The handmaiden, still watching in awe from the tower room, finally turned and blinked at her lady.

 

“Ye deal wi’ this once a week?”

 

Elinor looked up from her tending, and smiled. The girl had no clue, did she?

 

“Welcome to Castle Dunbroch, sweetheart.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They were meant to receive guests from the Southern Isles nearly any minute, yet the queen was nowhere to be found. While no one had appointed him, nor expected him to, Macintosh took it upon himself to take up the search, and proceeded to grumble about his sore luck about being assigned to search for his lady. He rounded the castle twice before he finally decided to peek into the kitchen, needing a break, and found himself surprised by the sight of Merida chatting amicably with the cooks while helping prepare for the feast later that night.

 

“Merida!”

 

She looked from the bowl she was stirring in, still smiling over a joke one of the lassies had said, and widened her eyes at the sight of him, “Lord! What’re you doin’ here?”

 

“I could ask the same of you.” He muttered as he trotted down the steps. As he moved close, he had to tip the pots hanging from above out of the way to not hit himself in the head. “Shouldn't ye be getting on your pretty frock and trottin’ out to see the mighty King?”

 

Merida gave a short laugh, and turned her shoulder to the bubbling pot on the stove. She began to pour whatever concoction she’d made into it, pushing it out with her spoon.

 

“King is one word for the laddie,” Merida laughed, barely glancing at him, when she suddenly did a double take. She was finishing the bowl as she tacked on, “Oh c’mon Mac, you’re taking up room. If you’re gonna stand around, go stand by the counters there an’ knead the flour, don’tcha.”

 

Despite pouting at the idea of getting flour over his kilt, he wandered over to the plump servant working the flour over, and she happily split her work with him.

 

“You shouldnae make fun of him, lassie.” Macintosh warned. A few of the people around glanced up, wary of anyone brave enough to call their ruler something so simple as lassie. But he went on, undeterred, “Y’know the troubles stirrin’ with Arendelle an’ them. While yer skill with a sword is unmet, ‘side from me (Merida gave a very loud “PFFT” at that), we’re not so lucky to have a queen that makes ice with her bare hands.”

 

“One wee island across the sea is no threat to us.” Merida laughed. She noticed the wary look on Macintosh’s face, and stopped. The humor never left her lips, not as she crossed the space to stand beside him. She put her hands on her hips, looked him in the eye, and promised, “As long as I can nock an arrow in my bow, no invader will lay waste to this land.”

 

Macintosh stepped closer, not noticing the servants eying each other cautiously and quickly leaving the room to give the pair privacy. He dipped his head slightly, getting rid of the space between them that his height gave. “An’ what if we lost you?”

 

“Well, the throne ought to be given to mah brothers, but we both ken they have no care for it. I reckon it’ll fall to your Macintosh clan. It’s tradition, aye?” Merida was getting nervous with Macintosh’s intensity, and reached out to stroke down his arm. It was a hopeless attempt to soothe him, but it was enough to get him to turn his intense gaze away. He raised his own hand to covers hers.

 

“I don’t want to think about you getting hurt, Merida.” Macintosh murmured, and looked up.

 

It stole her breath away.

 

“Mac…” she started, when the door burst open. The spell cast over the pair was broken, and they stepped away from each other like the other was on fire. Merida turned to the door to see Lord Dingwall panting in exertion.

 

“The party from the Southern Isles has bin spotted on th’ horizon. They’re comin’ into the harbour now. You have to be ready to greet them, Yer Majesty.”

 

“Oh,” Merida said softly. Her hands fidgeted in front of her person for a moment before she dropped them to her sides. She straightened her back, lifted her chin, and gave one short nod. “Of course. Thank you, lord. I’ll be right with you.”

 

Dingwall nodded back, and he hurried back out of the room. Merida turned back to Macintosh, but he’d already stepped away, letting go of her hand. She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but found herself unable to bring anything to mind. All she knew was that she simply wanted to stay here with him a moment longer.

 

She wanted him to look at her the way he had only seconds before.

 

But the moment was lost, and Merida left to prepare for their guests’ arrival.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Dunbroch, unlike most other kingdoms, was plain. The people didn’t care much for clothes made of fine silk or bright colours; it made hunting and scavenging too difficult. They had no care for many sweets, as their tongues were too rough for the smooth taste. Their idea of luxury was more food than usual on your plate and a joyful tune to sing with friends. Dunbroch was plain, yes, but that was just the way its people liked it. So while far off nobles in their fancy robes frowned upon them, the people of Dunbroch laughed  _plainly_ at them.

 

The Southern Isles were no different. Even before their conflict with Arendelle, their pompous and overly done up culture made most Dunbroch folk guffaw at the mention of the kingdom. The only thing that stopped the harbormaster from bursting into laughter when he saw the done up ship cruising into his docks, was the simple fact that he knew better than to laugh in the face of diplomats.

 

But the ruffled suits made it very, very difficult.

 

“Yer Majesty,” he grunted to them, giving a little bow. “Welcome to Dunbroch.”

 

“Eurgh.” the king said.

 

“Eurgh.” The two brothers that had accompanied him said.

 

All three turned to the final member of the party that wasn’t a servant or a member of their ship’s crew. Dolled up in a dress that had a skirt like a fat boar’s arse, she was the most laughable at all.

 

But, despite her brothers’ insistent stares, she lifted her chin and added a thoughtful, “Hmm.”

The ‘hmm’ wasn’t directed to the harbormaster’s beautiful maintenance, nor the kingdom’s beautiful cliffs or rolling plains which could be seen along the side of the bay. The king’s sister had made the thoughtful ‘hmm’ without ever taking her eyes off their valet, Lord Macintosh.

 

Macintosh had heard the noise, and proceeded to blush from the roots of his hair all the way down to the top of his kilt.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The servants of Dunbroch Castle had done all they could to appease the Southern Isles’ customs, yet as the king of the Southern Isles and the queen of Dunbroch bowed and curtsied to one another, the first comment to come from the king was a critical, “In our land, we provide a ball for any visiting dignitaries.”

 

Merida put on a smile for the king as they both rose from their bows, “Well, balls tend to be an informal affair more often than not around here. A private dinner suited our first meetin’ better, aye?”

 

“Fair enough, Merida,” the king said, returning her smile with the kind of smile that didn’t reach the eyes. Merida would’ve missed the way he disregarded her titles entirely, if not for the way she noticed her mother stiffen out of the corner of her eye. Had it been any other day she would have made a comment, but Macintosh’s caution still weighed heavily on her mind, taking up more of her focus than this meeting itself.

 

“Might I introduce my siblings,” the king suggested, turning back to gesture to the three waiting, “I heard you had triplets for brothers, so I knew I had to share my twin brothers - Rudi, Runo, the Princes of the Southern Isles. And the jewel of our realm, the fourteenth child of my father’s and the youngest of Westergaard House, Lady Carina.”

 

The twins held out their hands for their sister to take. Carina took their hands delicately and bent her knees into a curtsy, although she never dipped her head to Merida. Instead, her small, beady eyes kept with Merida’s gaze the whole time. It was enough to jar Merida, making her confidence waver in her voice.

 

“It is a pleasure to have you all,” she managed. She cleared her throat a little, a small wrinkle between her brow appearing before she gestured to her mother, who remained standing by the throne. “Ah, the Queen Mother, Elinor. I ought to introduce you-”

 

“We’ve actually already been acquainted, King Christen,” Elinor cut in, moving forward to stretch out her hand to the king, “I was your mother’s cousin. I remember visiting her and seeing you as a babe. We used to pass you around and kiss your bum.”

 

Merida tried, oh she tried, but she could not suppress the look of pure joy on her face as the king reluctantly took Elinor’s hand and bent to kiss the back of it. Merida had always been the brash sort, stomping into rooms and saying more often than not whatever she pleased, but as her time as queen stretched into years, she began to develop a fondness for the masterful passive aggression her mother exhibited towards nobles she had no care for. The only one in the room that had the slightest inkling of Elinor’s wit was Macintosh, and he was preoccupied in the corner with one of the stable hands, quietly discussing the set of horses that had been brought along for the seafaring journey between kingdoms.

 

“We should sit for dinner and hear more tales of Christen as a babe.” Merida suggested, her voice carrying a high-pitched lilt that hadn’t before.

 

“Yes.” Lady Carina spoke up, her voice as soft as a breeze, “I rather like the sound of that.”

 

With that, the royals were escorted into the second company room, a more private endeavour behind the throne room. Lords MacGuffin and Dingwall were there to receive them, helping them to their seats and introducing themselves. Their most exquisite dining table had been set with a lush purple cloth, honouring their guests’ national colour. But despite the fanciness of it all, they frowned at the feast as they sat. Merida wouldn’t have noticed if not for the subtle way her mother cleared her throat. She was reaching halfway to take some haggis for her plate when she glanced at the others.

 

Prince Rudi looked as if he had something smelly under his nose.

 

“What is that?” he asked.

 

“Wha’ is wha’-? Och, haggis!” she said cheerfully. She took the spoon and dumped a healthy portion for herself, and reached to hand the bowl over. “Don’t worry about taking too much, we have plenty.”

 

“I’ll pass. Doesn’t settle my seafaring stomach.”

 

“Funny, always helps mine after I spend too long on a boat. More fer me!”

 

The royals hesitantly tucked into their meal, so distracted by helping themselves to the food that none reacted to Macintosh hurrying in hastily. He didn’t sit with the lords just yet, instead leaning down to whisper to Merida.

 

“Would ye mind-?” he asked in lieu of pardoning himself.

 

“What’s this about?”

 

The lord gave a small shrug, knowing it was an inconvenience to ask her, “There’s not enough room in th’ stables fer th’ Southern Isles’ horses. We’ve tried doubling up on the stalls, and I’m movin’ Finola to the pasture. Would Angus mind terribly a few nights outdoors?”

 

“Oh no, no, not at all. Here, let me-”

 

Merida rose to her feet, but Macintosh raised a hand, “Your dinner-”

 

“You know Angus won’t budge for the stable hands-” she started, but she was cut off by King Christen speaking up.

 

“Is everything alright, Your Majesty?”

 

“Yes! Actually yes, there’s nothing to worry about. I just have to attend to a quick matter, you’ll hardly notice I’m gone. Ahm, MacGuffin, why don’t you tell our guests about the siege at Lachlan?”

 

“Far tae begin wi yon!” Guff enthused, and he began to spin his dramatic tale, “It wis a dreea’ful onding in th’ MacGuffin lan’, an’ oor patrool gave warning i’ invaders fae the nort-!”

 

Merida had been listening to the beginning as she left the room, but then Macintosh’s hand touched her back to guide her along, and… well, the world seemed to slip away, until there was nothing but the warmth his touch provided. 

 


End file.
